


Anyone Who's Still Talking to You

by Gang_Aft_Agley



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Burn Notice, Leverage
Genre: Airports, Atlanta Airport, F/M, Gen, Starbucks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-09 06:08:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11098521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gang_Aft_Agley/pseuds/Gang_Aft_Agley
Summary: After being disavowed in Russia, Bobbi and Hunter have to turn to friends on the other side of the law for help.This displeases Interpol.





	Anyone Who's Still Talking to You

**Author's Note:**

> Since apparently Marvel's Most Wanted won't be a thing, I needed to fill in the gaps.

They were sitting in a Starbucks in Hartsfield-Jackson when a bemused barista popped up at his elbow, holding out a cordless phone (they would later learn that it usually sat behind the counter) while covering the speaker.

"Uh ... I’m really sorry about this, but I’ve got a terrifying Brit on the phone who wants to talk to you?  Sounds all quietly angry, kinda like my mom when I’ve _really_ screwed up." Hunter blinked.

"To _me_?  Are you sure you have the right guy?"  The poor kid shrugged, because clearly he did not get paid enough to give a fuck, and right now there was a line out the door of irate businessmen and antsy soccer moms

"Well, he wants, and I quote, _a quick word with the imbecile wearing glasses and a stupid striped hoodie, the one sharing a table at your ten o’clock with the blonde in a Garfield sweatshirt_.  Here, he’s kinda freaking me out."  He shoved the phone into Hunter's waiting hand and stalked off, green apron flapping as he went.

Hunter cautiously raised it to his ear, because it was less than reassuring that someone had managed to pinpoint _this_ Starbucks in particular among all the others in the Atlanta airport (seriously, it was ridiculous how many there were).  Not to mention, he had any number of terrifying Brits in his past, some of them relatively friendly while others ... not so much.

"Hello?"

"Why are you and your ex-wife about to board a flight to Miami?"  Hunter sighed, because he knew _that_ voice all too well.

"Hello, Jim.  Haven't heard from you in awhile.  Yes, I agree, we _do_ have a lot of catching up to do."  Bobbi blinked at the name, and glared furiously in the direction of the nearest security camera.  (She started to flip it off, too, but Hunter forestalled her by wrapping his free hand around her rising fist and _thwapping_ it back down on the table.  Gently, of course, but decisively.)

"Hello to you, too.  Now, why are you and Bobbi about to board a plane to Miami?"

"Well, she wants to open a food truck, and I'm thinking about becoming a Zumba instructor..."

"Hunter."

".... we both wanted some sunshine after the Siberian steppes..."  
  
"Lance."  
  
"...might even sample Spring Break in Fort Lauderdale, we’ve never really taken a real vacation together, so when in Rome..."

" _LANCE!”_

" ... and Disney World's not _too_ far away, so all in all, it seemed like a reasonable choice."

There was a brief silence only punctuated by the sound of James Sterling grinding his teeth (and trying to pretend that he wasn't).

"The whole wide world to choose from, and you choose _Miami_?"

"Why _not_ Miami?" Hunter chirped with patently false enthusiasm.  "Burned spies, as you said, we can go anywhere we want.  Meet new, exciting people and maybe try _not_ to kill them for a change." 

The guy in a beanie at the next table (who’d been shooting them increasingly concerned looks ever since the conversation started) now began to look truly alarmed, so Bobbi bared her teeth at him in a menacing approximation of a reassuring smile; he blanched, _meeped_ in distress, and proceeded to redirect his attention everywhere but on them.

Sterling exhaled sharply in a way that Hunter knew was usually accompanied by a pinch to the bridge of his nose.

"There are certain ... high-ranking individuals, particularly in the CIA and FBI, who would be ... shall we say, _displeased_ , if you were to stay in Miami on a permanent basis.  No matter which old alias you dredge up out of obscurity in a vain attempt to fly under the radar, they will know, and make life ... _uncomfortable_ for you.  Are we clear?"

The light bulb came on, and Hunter murmured a soft _oh_.

"Well, ta ever so for the heads-up, Jim, but neither of us has _any_ intention of getting involved in Michael Westen's very particular brand of chaos."  Bobbi scrunched her nose up into a little moue of disgust and blew a raspberry.  "Look, Bobbi's even making The Face, _that's_ how far away from Westen and Company we want to stay."

"Not even Maddie's iced tea is worth putting up with that hot mess," Bobbi murmured, ostensibly aiming for _sotto voce_ , but missing by several decibels, and clearly audible to the man on the other end of the line.

"See?  Nothing to worry about.  Besides, after aliens and Inhumans, drug dealers and mobsters are both too tame to be worth the trouble and yet not tame enough for retirement, if you catch my drift."

"Well, as long as you catch mine," Sterling huffed, and hung up.  Hunter caught the eye of the kid behind the counter and lobbed the phone back at him, swishing past the ponytail of a woman with an I-want-to-speak-to-the-manager crease between her eyebrows.

Bobbi bit her lip and turned a page of _Teen Vogue_ with studied nonchalance.

"How long do you think it'll take him to realize we're only stopping in Florida long enough for Barry to shuffle our emergency accounts and sell us a car under the table?"

Hunter grinned, and nudged her ankle gently with the toe of his boot.

"Oh, I do hope it takes him at least until we hit the Rockies.  I'm almost looking forward to the explosion when we pop up anywhere within a one hundred mile radius of Nathan Ford."

Bobbi grinned back.

"It'll be a very distinctive explosion."

**Author's Note:**

> And then Hunter brings Eliot the mushrooms as a peace offering.


End file.
